


Summertime Dysphoria

by Loser_Love



Category: I Am Not Okay with This (TV 2020)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27641270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loser_Love/pseuds/Loser_Love
Summary: Syd Novak and Stan Barber are having identity crises, but at least they have someone who understands exactly what they're experiencing. Getting into shit that teenagers get into, getting stoned, and talking about nothing or everything. Y'know, what pals do.
Relationships: Dina/Sydney Novak, Stanley Barber & Sydney Novak
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20





	1. I'm So Sorry That You Have To Have A Body

\---PROLOGUE---

“Stanley?” Sydney blurted, making the stoned friend of hers jump just slightly. He slipped a grin, chuckling at his own startle, “Yeah?” “Do you ever...” she paused, pursing her lips.

Stan sat up from where he was strewn on his bedroom couch. “Do I ever?” He looked over at the ginger who was now sitting as well, legs crossed, staring at the floor. She pulled the joint to her lips and took a long drag. “Syd?” 

“Do you ever feel weird about having the body you have?” she spilled, exhaling heavily. Stan, taken aback, lean against the couch and blinked slowly. “Like in a ‘I’m a little chubby’ way, or in a ‘why does it look like that in general’ way?” “Well both, but specifically- specifically like.. parts and shit?” Stan took his own drag. “Oh yeah,” he nodded, blatantly, flatly, knowing exactly what Syd meant. “Sometimes I wish I didn’t have a dick,” he added immediately after. Sydney raised her brow “Yeah! Sometimes I just--” “And sometimes I don’t want to have anything at all honestly I-- Shit you were talking I’m sorry.” Stan watched Syd light up, “No, no you get it.” They grinned at each other, “Crazy shit right?” “Yeah, must just be hormones are something.” “Somethin’ like that.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

 _I don’t think like a man, do I?_ Stanley frowned into the mirror, the reflection limited to a window where the humidity was wiped away. Was that a misogynistic question? Was Stan setting back everyone a century by asking if they, Stan Barber, had any sort of non-physical attribute associated with manhood? They didn’t know. That’s right, they. Stan couldn’t help but grin, Syd and them had been talking recently about this weird identity crisis shit, and Syd had recommended they both started snuffing those stupid binary pronouns (though Syd was considering also allowing he, him, and his). Stan was thrilled to oblige. Now back to the assessment at hand, _What makes a man? Is it just the body?_ That would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it? They had heard their dad always bitching about Christine Jorgensen, a woman who used to be a man. Key phrase: used to be. What’s the point in which she became a woman? Was she not always a woman? 

It’s not that Stan wanted to be a woman. In fact, they hated that idea just as much as being a man. They ran their fingers gingerly down the side of their face, ruefully feeling incoming stubble. They pulled out their razor to begin a close, meticulous shave. _What is between a man and a woman?_ No, that wasn’t the right question. _What's the thing that is neither?_ Stan was whatever that was, that thing. For sure. They were not half ‘n half or nearly anything like that. Stan was simply Stan. 

“Stan,” their father said, suddenly they were very aware of their father in the doorway of the restroom. They jerked back, cutting their jaw by accident, “Yeah, dad?” The man tugged firmly at the bill of his trucker cap, looking annoyed, “That dyke is here to see you.” “Don’t call them that.” “Them? It’s just her.” Stan opened their mouth but quickly closed it, “Tell Syd I’ll be there in a second.” “Hurry up, I want her off my porch,” “ _Dad._ ” “Don’t even try, Stanley.”

Stan flinched, but simply obliged, abandoning the shave while holding a palm to their jaw to encourage clotting. They pushed past their father who looked at their couch, an outfit messily strewn across it. “Please tell me you aren’t wearing that shit,” the gruff motherfucker scoffed incredulously. Stan offered no response, pulling on their undershirt. Their father rolled their eyes and stepped out. 

_I can’t fucking wait to get out of here._ Stanley thought, pulling on their underwear, then some baggy, burnt orange pants. They donned a lime green sweater shawl over their white tanktop and sighed in content. They looked in the mirror and pulled back their hand. Still bleeding. They jogged back to the bathroom, sloppily finishing the shave with a couple more nicks, then slapped a bunch of bandaids across their jawline. Stan winked at the mirror, pointing finger-guns flirtatiously at themselves, “Looking good, Stan… Thank you, thank you.” They snorted, grabbing the cig-box that held their spare joints and scrambled out of the back door. Stan pondered if their confidence in their appearance was miserably misguided considering they didn’t know if they were a man or woman. How can you be so confident in presenting something so… mixed? “Just have to be, how else would I get on with my day,” Stan answered themselves aloud as they turned the corner of their house. Syd jumped out of their skin, not anticipating an approach from the side as they sat in a rocking chair on the porch, clearly dissociating to a different plane of existence. “Nothing, Syd, don’t sweat it. Sorry ‘bout him.” Syd simply rolled their eyes and shrugged, “Parents are like that, yeah?” “Guess so.” 

“Sooo… How’s Dina?” Stan led, grabbing Syd’s arm gently to drag them off the porch with an undertone of urgency. Syd flushed and waved their hand limply, “Uh, not much different from last you saw her?”  
“How are _you guys?_ ”  
“Don’t say it like that.”  
“Why not?”  
“I ‘unno it’s just- it’s just weird, dude. Quit.”  
“Fine, Fine.”  
“But to somewhat answer your question, not completely sure. We’re still sorting it all out but I had ice cream with her yesterday, and it definitely felt different?”  
“Different, huh?”  
“Yeah, different.”  
“You’re so good at describing things in vivid detail, Syd. I really do admire that about you.” Syd rolled their eyes with an exaggerated movement of their head. 

“Nothing makes sense Stan, feelings are chemicals, and I want to kiss her. Is that enough?”  
“Not really but I’ll take it.”  
“Whatever, dude. Your outfit is god-awful today.”  
“Aw, you really think so?” “Uh-huh.”  
“Thank god, I almost thought I was being too sensible.”  
“You never have to worry about that Stanley, never ever.”  
“Here’s to hoping.”  
“Mercedes?”  
“You’ve got it.”

“Right, so… What was it you wanted to do today?” Syd asked, glancing at their beaming friend.  
“Oh it’s gonna be so much fun, I couldn’t spoil the surprise.”  
“That absolutely terrifies me.”  
“Oh good!”


	2. War, War Never Changes

Stanley grinned and took a moment to stretch their legs, winding their left leg back. “This is something you have to stretch for?”   
“Yep.”   
“God help us both.”  
“That’s a tad dramatic, half the time I stretch just go on a walk.”  
“We both know this isn’t just a walk.”

The curly-headed brunette beamed knowingly, “Yeah, yeah. I know. Now take this and shove your jacket in here,” they held out an unfamiliar, black backpack. Syd looked at the other incredulously, their hand gripping at the ruddy brown corduroy jacket. “Dude, trust me, you don’t want it on right now.”   
“I always want a jacket on, what are you getting on about?”  
“Yeah but I have the keys to the back entrance of the Dollar General.”   
“What?”  
“Uhuh.”

Syd pursed their lips and quickly removed the jacket, a crooked grin twitching at the corner of their lips. “How’d you get it?”  
“I have my ways!” Stan chuckled, slinging the backpack over their shoulder. Syd looked to the black cap with a bandana shoved in the head of it. They looked up to see Stan pulling on a cap, shoving their unruly curls beneath it as they walked about half a block ahead. Syd mirrored the behavior calmly, sliding the hat on and tucking their head. 

“Isn’t it a little early to break in?” Syd inquired, glancing at the still setting sun. “Nah, they had to close up early today. I’ve been paying attention to the shifts, got someone on the inside.”   
“You never cease to amaze me, Stan Barber.”   
Stanley spun around and gave a dramatic bow, “Why thank you, Novs.”

Sydney rolled their eyes, plucking the sunglasses off of Barber’s head quickly, sliding them onto their own face. “Hey! That’s pretty rude considering I bought you your own pair!” Stanley scrambled to unzip the backpack, fishing out some rose gold framed aviators. 

“Shit-” Syd grabbed the sunglasses, practically flinging the other back to their friend. The ginger slid them on and smirked, “Oh, perfect.” Stan smiled victoriously, sliding back on their own sunglasses. “Now act natural,” they muttered, walking in long, calm strides down the side of the parking lot. “Yeah, I know, stupid,” Syd retorted, shoving their hands in their pockets. “And… right here,”   
“But there’s a camera by the door!”   
“Yeah it’s turned off, I made sure.”  
“You’re for sure?”  
“Totally!”  
“If I get arrested, Stanley, my mom’d-”  
“Dude, I know, my dad too, okay? I’d never lie about that shit.”

Stan pushed open the door, revealing a half-lit Dollar General, the hum of the fluorescent lights buzzing through the pair’s ears. “Dude,” Syd breathed out, their tone changing quickly from apprehension to shock. “See? Empty,” the curly-headed friend announced triumphantly, shoving the door so Syd could walk all the way in behind them and jogging into the center of the convenience store. “All ours, Novak, it’s allll ours,” they pulled out the cig-box, popping it open. A lighter falls onto the ground and Stan nods to it, “Let’s hot box the fuck out of this place.” 

Syd flashed a bright grin, grabbing the lighter and slinging their bag to the side. They start the flame as Stan grabs a joint, lighting it beside them. “Here, I think you can handle your own by now, right?” Syd swallowed hard, a bit nervous, “Do you think so?” “I mean, sure, just pace yourself, no pressure anyways, you can always put it out.”

Syd nodded slowly, drawing the joint to their lips and drawing in a long drag as Stanley lit their own, taking the lighter from them. “What about the smell?” Syd asked, exhaling slowly. “Eh, don’t sweat it. The manager already smokes, couldn’t you smell it when you walked in?” “No, guess I’ve gotten too used to your room-smell, flamer.” Stan gasped in mock-offense, placing a hand on their chest, “Are you calling me a smelly queer?” “I just might be, Stan Barber, I just might be.”

Stan snorted, slipping the joint between their teeth as they shoved the box back into their pocket. “So, what exactly can we do here?” Syd asked, following after their friend who had begun a slow pace around the perimeter of the store. “Anything went want, really,” Stan stopped in their tracks, grabbing a handful of energy drinks from the cooler before jogging ahead and spinning around. “Dodge them, Donkey Kong Style,” Stan blurted, chucking the cans sideway in a rolling motion, one hitting the edge in just the right way to burst, fizzing over the ground. Novak scrambled to react, jumping over each the cans, “Shit, dude, I’d prefer a heads up.” 

Syd popped open the freezer next to them, grabbing a small pizza and frisbee throwing it at the curly-headed bastard, who narrowly dodged it and took off into the adjacent isle. “Not fair, fuckhead!” the ginger shouted, grabbing the remaining pizza’s from the freezer shelf and starting after Stan. “Come and get me, Novs, I fucking dare you!”


End file.
